


You Don't Hold Back for Family

by Closeted_Bookworm



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Broken Bones, Gen, Kidnapping, New favorite headcanon: Tubbo as Dream's brother, Non-Graphic Violence, SBI will wage a war for their little brother and Dream will do it for his boyfriend, Semi-realistic Minecraft AU, You messed with the wrong found family bucko, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28211580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Closeted_Bookworm/pseuds/Closeted_Bookworm
Summary: A shriek shattered the relative quiet of the woods, and Tubbo nearly fell off the branch in surprise, heart rate skyrocketing. He glanced back to find out what on earth had made Tommy scream like that. His stomach dropped into his boots.Being the brother of a famed warrior comes with risk, but it also means that when you get kidnapped, you bet your life they're going to annihilate whoever's responsible.
Relationships: Background DNF - Relationship, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 65
Kudos: 744
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	1. To Attract Destruction

**Author's Note:**

> Standard warning: Minecraft personas only, be nice people :)
> 
> Takes place in a world that's basically realistic Minecraft but people can have guns. I'm keeping the gun violence to an absolute minimum though, it's mostly just threatening. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Tommy crashed through the undergrowth, hot on Tubbo’s trail as his friend swung through the trees. 

“You picked the slower path, I’m going to catch you this time!” he shouted upwards. Tubbo laughed gleefully. 

“It’s not over yet. You’ll never be able to beat Dream at this rate! My brother’s going to run circles around you next tournament,” he yelled back, hoisting himself up onto a branch and scrambling higher up the tree and out of sight. 

Tommy’s face furrowed into a scowl as his friend disappeared into the leaves. He kept quiet, listening for the tell-tale rustles that would indicate he had jumped to another tree, but the forest was noiseless except for the normal wildlife sounds and the hissing of the wind. He circled the base of the trunk, trying to catch a glimpse of Tubbo, but saw nothing. 

Just as he was deciding that there might be nothing for it except to climb up after him, a twig snapped in the distance. His gaze roved over the bushes in that direction, quickly zeroing in on something large moving stealthily through the plants. 

“Gotcha,” he muttered, dropping into a crouch and starting towards the disturbance. He didn’t know how Tubbo had managed to get all the way down from the treetops without him seeing, but now the jig was up.

* * *

Tubbo smirked as he watched Tommy stalk right past his hiding spot in a nearby tree, vision fixated on whatever was skulking through the bushes ahead of him. He can’t believe that he escaped that easily, he was worried he’d never be able to get his friend off his tail. All he had to do now was loop back the way he’d come and steal the winner’s banner right from under Tommy’s nose, and he’d be home free. He hadn’t won a round of Flag Sniper (a game of their own invention, some combination of Capture the Flag and Manhunt) for nearly a month, victory would be sweet. 

He slowly inched his way along the limb until he could safely leap into the next tree, keeping half an eye on Tommy as he approached the patch of moving bushes. It was probably a fox or something, or maybe a wolf. He hoped it wasn’t a wolf, Tommy always had bones on him and he didn’t want to be fighting against a newly tamed dog as well. He landed lightly on the next branch, hoping he wouldn’t alert Tommy to his location. He stopped looking backwards, relying on his hearing to tell him if he was being chased. 

A shriek shattered the relative quiet of the woods, and Tubbo nearly fell off the branch in surprise, fast reflexes barely saving him as he bear-hugged the limb. His heart rate was skyrocketing. He glanced back to find out what on earth had made Tommy scream like that. His stomach dropped into his boots. 

His best friend was being wrestled to the ground by five men in camouflage suits. He was fighting like a devil and screaming every curse word in the book, but he was no match for the attackers. Tubbo’s immediate instinct was to help his friend, but he decided that might not be the best idea when one of them pulled out a gun. Tommy went still, and Tubbo froze in fright as the weapon was trained directly at his friend’s head. He was grateful Tommy knew when to stop fighting, he couldn’t handle watching his best friend get shot in front of him.

His best chance right now would be to stay hidden and make a break for SBI’s base as soon as possible. If he was lucky, the thugs had no idea he was out here and he could simply wait for them to leave before making his move. 

Unfortunately, Tubbo’s luck had never been that good. As two of the men set about tying Tommy’s hands and feet together, the other three pulled out their own firearms and started fanning out to search the clearing. Fluttery panic erupted in his belly as they started looking up into the trees. He was very glad he was not in the same one he’d originally climbed up, that was the first one they checked. 

He might still be able to avoid detection, he was pretty high up. The ground was maybe thirty or forty feet below him, and he was concealed by the branches. Thankfully, none of the men seemed eager to climb up after him. He cautiously shifted positions in the tree, lifting himself onto a higher branch so that his view of the men was obscured. It meant he couldn’t see what they were doing anymore, but it also lowered their chances of spotting him. 

He could still hear the boots tramping around below him. He almost didn’t want to breathe, terrified that somehow they would hear him. They were shouting commands to each other, speculating about which tree he was in now.

“Are we sure he’s still here?” one of them shouted. Tubbo nearly jumped out of his skin, it sounded like he was right under the tree he was hiding in. 

“He’s long gone by now!” Tommy yelled, voice slightly muffled. His face must be pressed to the ground. Tubbo’s stomach did a flip. “I saw him heading back towards the base ages ago.”

“Like we’d believe you,” someone sneered, and he heard a yelp of pain. He desperately wanted to jump down right that second and make whoever just hit his best friend wish they’d never been born, but he couldn’t risk getting both of them caught or even killed. 

“Expand the search in the opposite direction of the base,” the thug that seemed to be the leader instructed. “He’s probably lying to cover which direction he really went.”

Hope sparked in his mind. They thought he’d already run. The footsteps were getting farther away now, and he could hear branches breaking as they got farther away. It was a waiting game now. He carefully lowered himself back onto his original branch, deciding a view of what was going on was worth risking the small chance the two remaining men would spot him. They didn’t expect him to still be in the area, they wouldn’t be looking for him.

They were also preoccupied with Tommy. His best friend was lying prone on the ground, arms and legs tightly bound together. Both of the men had guns out, one sweeping the forest around them and one with the barrel pointed at their captive. Tubbo was pleased to see that one of the men had a bloody nose. Tommy hadn’t gone down without a fight. 

Tubbo sat in the tree long enough for his legs to start cramping before the leader called in the searchers. 

“We’ve lost him,” he grunted, clearly annoyed. “But we only needed one, as long as the second crew pulled through. Let’s move out before that brat can go get help.”

One of them pulled some cloth out of his pocket and made quick work of gagging Tommy, who fixed him with such a rage-filled glare it made Tubbo shudder. They also blindfolded him, then the tallest of the group slung the teenager over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Despite Tommy’s height, the thug acted like he weighed nothing. 

“You resist, we shoot you in the leg,” the leader threatened, and Tommy nodded. 

Tubbo watched them disappear into the woods, making careful note of the direction they went. As soon as he was certain they were gone, he left his safe haven and started sprinting back towards the base. The tears he’d been too scared to shed while hiding started blurring his vision, and he dashed them away. 

He reached the base after ten minutes of running at top speed, the high stone towers of what was basically a miniature castle poking over the tops of the trees like mushrooms out of moss. He raced across the drawbridge and banged on the wooden door as hard as he could, pleading to Notch that someone was nearby. He didn’t have time to scale the wall where he usually got back inside. He shouted desperately for someone to come let him in.

Wilbur yanked the door open, catching Tubbo as he tumbled over the threshold, panting and crying. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked hurriedly, helping him back to his feet. “Should I go get Tommy?”

“We snuck out together,” Tubbo gasped, and Wilbur went pale. “Somebody kidnapped him.”

The older man’s face darkened in anger, and Tubbo flinched, but it wasn’t directed at him. Wilbur helped into an armchair and slammed the door shut, running off in the direction of the practice room and yelling for Techno and Phil to come quickly. Tubbo buried his face in his hands, thinking of guns and fights and ropes as tears dropped onto his shirt.

Three pairs of feet pounded into the room, and he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. Phil knelt down in front of him, lifting his head up with a gentle hand. His face was calm, but Tubbo knew him well enough to see the fury burning in his eyes. Techno and Wilbur were hovering behind him, the former stoically simmering with wrath and the latter practically hopping from one foot to the other in barely contained vexation.

“Can you tell us everything that happened?” Phil asked softly. 

So Tubbo did, stuttering frantically through his short tale. By the time he’d finished, Techno looked about ready to explode, and Wilbur had given up on any pretense of calmness. Phil wrapped him in a hug so tight it was almost suffocating, but Tubbo didn’t care. 

“Someone get a hold of Dream,” Phil said through Tubbo’s shoulder. “Let him know his brother’s here.”

“Way ahead a ya,” Techno responded, his communicator already out and typing furiously. He paused, reading the message, and his eyes widened. “The situation may or may not have just gotten worse.”

Phil stood back up with a worried frown. “How?”

“George and Sapnap may be missin’ too. They were supposed to arrive back from a trip to Hypixel City a few hours ago. Dream’s out lookin’ for them, he didn’t know Tubbo had snuck out. He says to not let him back out of the base again.”

Tubbo nodded, too distressed and freaked out to protest. 

Techno was typing again.

“He said he’s close by if we want to team up. I’m goin’ to tell him yes.”

Phil turned back to Tubbo. “What direction were they taking Tommy?”

Tubbo tried to figure out where it would be from the base. “Southwest, more south than west. Towards the mountains.”

“Tell Dream that,” Phil told Techno, who was still typing. “Suit up, you and I are going with him. Wilbur, you stay here and make sure nothing happens to Tubbo.”

“Like hell I’m staying back,” Wilbur protested, expression stormy. “They’ve got guns, Phil. I’m the only one here with shooting experience.”

It was true. Techno didn’t like how noisy and crass guns were, he preferred melee combat or a crossbow if a ranged weapon was absolutely necessary. Phil had some bad experiences when he was younger, and almost exclusively used a longbow. He also had a pair of daggers for close quarters. Wilbur, however, almost rivaled BadBoyHalo in his proficiency with firearms. His reasoning was that someone in the family needed to have that knowledge, it may as well be him. No way was he letting that go to waste now, especially when he knew the other side likely wouldn’t be holding back. 

“Wilbur’s right,” Techno agreed. “We need someone who can take it to their level, and Wilbur’s who we’ve got unless you want to walk an hour to pick up Bad or Skeppy. You should probably stay back if we’re leaving anyone here.”

Phil looked torn, but he couldn’t argue with the logic, and they couldn’t leave Tubbo alone when he potentially had a target on his back. He was the best choice to defend the base. 

“Fine,” he let out with a sigh. “But you two better be careful or I’ll kill you myself after rescuing you.”

Wilbur’s mouth curved into a dangerous grin. “No worries, pop.”

Tubbo was always a little nervous when Tommy’s brother got like this. He looked unstable. No one crossed Wilbur’s family and got away with it. Ironically, he was more intimidated by the musician than by Techno, the seasoned warrior. Techno’s rage was straightforward and controlled, and Tubbo knew exactly what his plan was and how he was going to execute it. Wilbur was an unpredictable kind of angry, and it never ended well for those on the receiving end. 

Techno grabbed his brother by the elbow and steered him towards the armory. “Let’s grab our kit. You’re wearin’ armor whether you like it or not.”

Wilbur had the sense not to complain about it. 

“Take something light and sturdy to put on Tommy when you find him,” Phil told them. Techno nodded and saluted, then they vanished around the corner.

“Let’s get you to the kitchen,” Phil murmured to Tubbo, whose tears were threatening a comeback. Before they could leave, however, there was more banging on the front door. Phil’s head shot up and he dragged the teenager to his feet and pushed him in the direction of the hallway. He took the hint and made himself scarce as the older man went to answer the door. 

“Who’s there?” he called, hand resting on the locked deadbolt. 

“Sapnap,” a familiar voice raggedly replied, still tinged with the undying sarcasm he was known for. “For the love of Notch let me in or I’m setting fire to your door.”

Phil would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so on edge. He undid the lock, pulled open the door, and ushered in a battered and limping Sapnap, who was squinting through a black eye and bleeding from a few scrapes. 

“George isn’t with you?” Phil questioned, sitting him down in the armchair Tubbo had just vacated and calling the teenager back in to send him in search of the first aid kit and a healing potion. 

“No,” Sapnap said, downcast. “They took him after knocking me out. I’m guessing you know about the situation already?”

“We’ve been in contact with Dream, he’s actually on his way now. Whoever it was ambushed Tommy and Tubbo as well, but Tubbo managed to get away. We’re sending out a rescue party in the direction he saw them go.”

Sapnap managed a chuckle, though he winced in pain as well. “Notch help them. Dream and Techno are going to obliterate whoever it was.”

Phil tsked in worry. “Hopefully at least one of them can stay level-headed. This is a hostage situation.”

“Don’t sweat it, Dream’s a regular Sherlock Holmes in a pinch, and I’ve never seen him more protective than he is around George. If anyone can break them out, it’s him.”

Phil nodded, marginally reassured. 

“Can I borrow your communicator?” Sapnap asked. “Let Dream know I’m not dead and all that. They stole mine.”

“Absolutely,” Phil replied, digging it out of his pocket and handing it over.

Tubbo ran back in with the bright red healing pot and the box of medical supplies just as Wilbur and Techno came back in from the armory, fully equipped and carrying a backpack presumably full of supplies and a spare set of armor for Tommy. 

“Sapnap!” Wilbur exclaimed in surprise. “Where’s George?”

“MIA. Phil said you two were going after them?”

“Yup,” Techno said, adjusting the straps of the pack. “Any sign of Dream?”

“Not yet,” Phil told him, handing the injured man the healing potion and getting out a pressure-activated ice pack for his eye. Wilbur and Techno huddled in the corner, planning entry strategies and speculating about locations. Tubbo was standing off to the side, looking around anxiously like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself, so Phil waved him over and showed him how to clean the less serious scrapes while he took care of the larger ones himself. 

“They really did a number on you,” he commented. Sapnap grunted in agreement, face screwed up in pain as they dabbed at the abrasions with alcohol to clean them. He took a cautious sip of the potion. It was best to go carefully with the healing magic, too much at once could be even more painful than the wounds it was supposed to fix. It was a fine line between taking enough to heal quickly and taking so much you ended up bedridden while your body worked it out of your system. 

“You shoulda seen the other guys,” he joked halfheartedly as the ticklish burning sensation that indicated the magic was working started in his belly. He took another tiny sip, and the feeling grew, spreading out through his limbs and torso. The rib he was pretty sure had cracked started buzzing in his chest.

The communicator vibrated in his hand, and he looked down to see Dream had gotten his message and was beyond relieved he was safe. Relatively safe, anyways. He was about five minutes away from the base, and Sapnap told as much to the others. 

Techno’s eyes glittered with excitement at the prospect of taking his revenge, and Wilbur was almost unhinged with bottled up emotion. Tubbo leaned into Phil’s side as the cuts and scrapes on Sapnap’s legs and arms started closing, closing his eyes and telling himself Tommy was going to be okay. They had the most powerful warriors for hundreds of miles around at their side. He had to be okay.


	2. The Chaos Contained

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bumped the chapter count to three since this got a little longer than I expected. This is what happens when I sit down at two in the morning with the goal of writing a one shot. Help.

Tommy prided himself on being courageous. He wasn’t stupid enough to call himself fearless, but he liked to think he got pretty close. 

But now, dumped on a hard rock floor in some unknown location with the two most important of his five senses out of commission, he was ashamed to admit that he was _terrified_. He wanted to be able to say that he kept calm in a crisis and kept up his confident bravado, but all that had flown out the window when he faced down the barrel of that gun. 

His fear had tripled when they started searching for Tubbo. He had spotted his friend’s hiding place by then, used to picking out his signature green button down in the shades of the forest, and to say he was relieved when his friend moved all the way out of sight was an understatement. His one rational act had been to put them off Tubbo’s scent, and even that had almost backfired. But his best friend had escaped, and that meant that someone was coming for him. 

He had no doubt that his family would look for him. He would drop everything in a heartbeat if one of them went missing, and he knew they’d do the same for him. He wasn’t sure exactly how it would play out, and he hoped they wouldn’t do anything stupid, but one way or another they would find him. 

He had no idea where he was. He had deduced that it was probably a basement of some kind, since he was carried down a ladder before being unceremoniously dropped to the ground and barely avoiding a concussion, but the only things he knew besides that were that the floor was stone and it was cold. 

For the first few minutes after they left him he tried to get out of his bonds, but he made no progress and had scraped his knee in the process. He was pretty sure he could feel it bleeding. He soon had the much better idea to try and get his blindfold off, but with his arms pinned behind his back the only thing he could do was awkwardly grab it with his knees and try to tug on it. Eventually, he got a good grip and ripped it off of his head, only to discover that the basement was pitch black even with his eyes uncovered.

He growled in annoyance and turned his efforts to the gag, which was harder but still came off with the same technique. He spat out the fabric and ran his tongue all over his mouth, trying to rid himself of the taste. Who knew where that nasty thing had been. 

He considered yelling for help, then discarded the idea. With how spread out everyone living in the area was, the chances of anyone friendly being nearby were remote, and he didn’t want to invoke the wrath of his kidnappers. He didn’t know if that “shoot you in the leg” thing was still in effect, and was in no hurry to find out. He was going to have to fight the urge to say something stupid, no matter how strong it might be. 

The only light in the dark basement was a thin sliver on the ceiling that indicated where the trapdoor seam was. Tommy inch-wormed his way under it, straining to hear any sort of sound that might give away more about his situation, but there was nothing. No muffled talking, or scraping of chairs across the floor, or shuffling cards. He wondered if they had left him alone, and if they were planning on coming back. The thought that he might’ve been left here to die scared him even more, though, so he banished it. 

The gravity and danger of his situation was weighing heavily on him. No way was he going to allow himself to cry, though. Techno wasn’t going to burst in guns blazing to find him in tears. 

He decided his next goal was to explore his prison, even if he couldn’t see it. He rolled himself to the side until his back was flush against one wall, then started scooting his way around the edges, trying to estimate how much space there was. It was fairly good-sized, maybe one and a half times the size of his bedroom at home just based on the two walls he’d traveled along so far. 

He had almost reached the spot where the third corner of the room should be when his foot collided with something that wasn’t stone. He cautiously prodded it with his toe, trying to figure out what it was, but came up empty. He rotated himself so that he could try and touch it with his hands. His hands met fabric, then skin, and he realized that there was _another person_ down here and either things were looking up or he was stuck with a dead body. He quickly shoved that second option out of his mind with a shudder.

He poked the person, pretty sure he was touching their arm. It also may have been their calf, but he was fairly certain he’d grabbed a shirt sleeve, not a pant leg. 

“Hey, you, wake up,” he whisper-yelled, unsure how well sound carried through to the upper levels of the building. He didn’t get a response. He poked them again, harder, then a third time. Either this person was unconscious, or was no longer alive. Tommy still refused to consider that alternative. They were still warm, they couldn’t be dead, right?

He dragged himself into a sitting position next to the unmoving figure. He tentatively leaned his head on their chest, and his heart leaped when he heard a soft, ragged exhale and the thump of a heartbeat. Definitely alive. Probably also kidnapped, but maybe not tied up? One could hope.

The rhythm of the breaths under his ear changed, growing shallower and faster. Tommy jerked his head away in surprise, looking in the person’s direction even if he couldn’t see them. 

“Hello?” he pushed carefully. He got a pained groan in response, which was progress. He tapped their shoulder with his head, and they made the noise again, louder than before. 

“You awake?” he tried. 

The groan heightened into a whine, and the person began to tremble. Something was definitely wrong with them. Why was the noise so familiar, though?

Something clicked.

“ _George?_ ” he said incredulously. No coherent response.

He nudged the man with his head again, and the breathing pattern sped up even more. The whine cut off with a whimper and a heated swear word as the man jolted into wakefulness.

“What happened, where am I?” George sputtered. Tommy felt him start to move, but he stopped with a cry of pain. “How dare those- those-”

Tommy filled in the blank with the most creative and vulgar insult he could come up with.

“Yeah, that,” George said through gritted teeth. “Tommy?”

“The one and only. We’re in a right pickle, aren’t we? What’d you say you help a man out with the ropes around his wrists?”

George tried to move again, but the pain flared and he stilled. “My right shoulder,” he gasped. “I think it’s dislocated. And my legs feel like they’re on fire.” He tried moving his left arm, and found that he thankfully still could. Tommy twisted around so that George could get to his wrists, and with a lot of fumbling he managed to undo the knot. 

Tommy barely kept himself from shouting in triumph, rubbing the sore skin where the ropes had irritated it. He undid the bonds around his legs, getting to his feet with a wonderful stretch. 

“Do you have anything I need to untie?” he asked.

“No,” George replied, his voice tight with pain. “But I don’t think I’m going anywhere regardless.”

“Are your legs that bad?”

“I’m pretty sure they’re broken.” 

Tommy wasn’t going to give up that easily.

“I’m going to go investigate the trapdoor,” he told his friend. 

The sliver of golden lantern light was about six feet above his head. He felt along the wall under it, searching for a ladder, but the rock was smooth under his touch. They must have lowered one down when they put them in here, then taken it back up afterwards. He made a halfhearted attempt to climb the stone, but couldn’t get any purchase. He wasn’t really expecting to anyway, but it was always worth a shot. 

Maybe there was something around here he could use as a weapon, and he could ambush them if they came down. He worked his way over the parts of the room he hadn’t explored, but it was barren except for the discarded rope from his ankles and wrists. Maybe he could choke someone if he got the jump on them, but the thought repulsed him. He didn’t know if he had it in him to kill someone like that.

If only they hadn’t emptied his pockets. He would’ve had a pocket knife and a communicator, and he could’ve tied the bone he carried to the rope and swung that around as a makeshift weapon.

“Any luck?” George called softly. 

“Nothing,” Tommy spat in frustration. “Do you have anything on you?”

“No, they took my sword and supplies.”

Tommy plunked himself down by George again. “I think we’ve just gotta wait to be rescued,” he muttered. He picked at a loose thread on his shorts and glowered at the darkness. His palm brushed against the scrape he got earlier and he winced. Luckily it was already scabbing over, hopefully there wasn’t any debris in it that would get infected.

“How did they get you?” he asked his companion. 

“Sapnap and I got ambushed on the way back from Hypixel,” George explained. “Like ten dudes, clearly well trained. They disarmed us pretty quickly, but they just kept hitting. I saw Sapnap go down under three or four guys, then one of them slammed me into a tree and I blacked out. I think that’s what messed up my shoulder. I don’t know what they did to my legs.”

Tommy blinked in disgusted disbelief. Apparently he’d been lucky to get tied up and not beaten to a pulp. “They broke your legs after you were unconscious?”

“Guess that’s one way to make sure I don’t run off,” George said bitterly. “It hurts like hell. No way I’m getting out of here on my own power.”

“I’ll carry you if I have to,” he declared. 

“Thanks for the sentiment, Tommy,” George huffed, sounding like he was biting his lip. “What happened to you?”

“Tubbo and I snuck out of the base to play Flag Sniper and they caught me but missed him.”

“Training for the tournament next week?”

“Yeah. Someday I’m gonna beat your boyfriend at his own game, you’ll see.”

George chuckled. “Good luck with that.”

“But this tournament the prize is a treasure map! No way I’m letting that slip through my fingers. They haven’t found one in like fifty years or something, imagine getting the chance to look for it. The last guy who found one of those chests lived like a king for the rest of his life.”

“If you guys won, it would be because of Techno.”

“No way, I’d carry the whole time.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

“It’s true!”

“Quiet down,” George murmured, shushing him. “There’s probably people upstairs, and my head’s pounding.”

Tommy, for once, listened, dropping his volume back down to a whisper.

“How long do you think it’ll take them to find us?”

“No idea,” George confessed. “We could be over a thousand blocks away from the base for all I know.”

“It seemed like it took forever for them to walk me here, but it was probably a couple hours. We can’t be too far away,” Tommy guessed. “Plus Tubbo probably saw which direction they went.”

“Maybe they’ll be here today then,” George said, not sounding very optimistic. “What do you think they even want from us?”

Tommy hadn’t given that particular issue much thought. “Does it matter, as long as they don’t get it?” he replied. “My brothers are gonna bust us out of here before they can even blink.”

“It matters if they want us dead,” George said under his breath, and Tommy pretended not to hear him, hand going back to the loose thread. He wouldn’t be here long, he was sure of it.

* * *

Phil stared down at the message sent from Tommy’s communicator, quivering with rage and stress. Tubbo apprehensively asked what was wrong, and he shielded the screen from the teenager, not wanting him to worry more than he already was. He forwarded the text to Techno, Wilbur, and Dream, though he was sure they’d already gotten the same message. 

_Withdraw your team from the tournament, or we will send you your son’s heart in a box the day it begins. Every twelve hours you wait, we will cut off one of his fingers. If you comply, he will be released after the tournament has ended. Do not attempt to find him, or the consequences will be dire._


	3. When Pain Blossoms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may or may not be three times longer than the last one :) 
> 
> I tried to do my research, but apologies for any medical or weapon-related inaccuracies! If you let me know in the comments I can try and fix them.

Rage boiled barely below the surface of Dream’s face as he read over the messages from Tommy and George’s communicators. He made an effort to calm himself, distilling the anger into something useful, but it was difficult, to say the least. He understood the raised stakes for next week’s tournament, with the treasure on the line, but the fact that someone would go to such lengths just for money was despicable. 

He wasted no time telling Sapnap to remove their team from the tournament (healing and regen potions could do a lot of things, but regrow missing digits was not one of them), and Phil withdrew his group. They could worry about getting back in once the ‘situation’ was resolved. He instructed his friend to not give a reason why they were withdrawing, only that they would likely be re-signing up later, and to take a note of any teams who had come from foreign areas. 

_Check your precious sign up list,_ he sent to the captors. _Our names have been dropped. Don’t you dare touch a hair on their heads._

“Is it taken care of?” Techno asked. 

He nodded, adjusting the revolver holster and axe hung on his hip. Techno eyed the gun with mild disdain. 

“I never liked those myself,” he commented as they walked through the wilderness towards the mountains in the distance. “Too flashy.”

“Efficiency is efficiency,” Dream replied. “And you’re sure one to talk about flashy.” His gaze traveled from the crossbow slung across the warrior’s back to the row of slender fireworks tucked into his belt. He’d never gotten to see that particular weapon in action before, and he was secretly hoping he would today. 

“No, I’m dramatic. There is a difference,” Techno refuted. “But if you think I’m over-the-top, you should see what Wilbur’s got in his bag.”

Dream slowed his step and fell back next to the younger brother. “Anything I should watch out for besides that rifle on your shoulder?”

Wilbur smirked and sped up, leaving him behind. “You’ll find out later. No spoilers, Techno,” he quipped, but the smoldering fire in his eyes solidified Dream’s hypothesis on which brother was actually more dangerous at the moment. If Wilbur had a plan, and Dream was sure he did, then he was more than happy to let him wreak havoc. 

“How far ahead of us do you think they are?” Wilbur asked.

“Based on where Tubbo said they started from and when we left, maybe an hour,” Techno estimated. “Give or take twenty minutes.”

The trio traveled in tense silence, moving through the forest with their eyes peeled for any sign of another party going the same direction. Dream kept half an eye on the progress of the sun, estimating they had about two hours before it got dark. He was holding out hope they would arrive at their destination before the sun set. He would appreciate the cover nighttime provided, but he’d rather evaluate the situation in daylight first. 

Techno split off from the group, crouching down to dig through a patch of dry leaves and standing back up with a bloody beige bandana in his hand. 

“We’re on the right track,” he said. “One of them was injured.”

“If that’s Tommy’s blood there’ll be hell to pay,” Wilbur muttered frostily. 

“Tommy wouldn’t be in a position to press cloth to a wound,” Dream reminded them. “Tubbo said his hands were tied together. It’s more likely he managed to wound one of his attackers before being captured.”

“Regardless, we know they came this way,” Techno declared. “Be on your guard.”

Dream nodded, hand straying unconsciously towards his holster. Techno caught the movement and rolled his eyes behind the mask, turning around to lead the way. A moment later he realized his own hand had gone to the hilt of his sword, fingers ghosting over the runes carved into the hilt. He chuckled darkly. The two of them were not so different.

His brother was starting to ready his rifle. Techno stopped him with a look. “Stealth, Wilbur,” he reprimanded. “No need to let everyone for miles know the second we meet someone.”

The younger man grinned disturbingly, stopped adjusting the gun, and opened the jacket he wore over his armor, revealing an array of throwing knives with color-coded hilts. Techno raised his eyebrows, recognizing the pigments used for identifying poison, harming, and weakness effects. Dream whistled, impressed. 

“Silent enough for you?” Wilbur asked playfully.

“Don’t drop one on your foot,” was all Techno said. Nothing would ever top a good, straightforward sword for him, but to each their own. 

The three fell into a single file line, with Techno in the lead and Dream bringing up the rear, taking a cursory glance backwards every minute or so to make sure they weren’t being followed. Every so often they would pick up on another sign of the group they were following, like a partial footprint or a freshly broken branch. 

Soon, they were walking through increasingly rocky terrain as they approached the towering mountains that overshadowed the valley they lived in. Tree cover was becoming sparser, and the more exposed they became, the tighter Techno held himself. Dream shared his feeling of unease, though he kept his stance relaxed, and Wilbur’s gait stayed as carefree as ever. They had yet to catch sight of the kidnappers, though, even with the improved visibility. 

Before long, the majority of their cover was coming from boulders and rock formations, sunk deep into the dirt and covered in moss. The misshapen stone pillars were not a great substitute for the secrecy of the woods, but they successfully hid their party from anyone traveling ahead of them and the traces they were following were much easier to spot without the leaf cover, so Dream wasn’t going to complain. The group didn’t seem to be covering their tracks at all, and he snorted at their arrogance. They really thought they could kidnap two members of the most powerful teams in the area and not be followed?

Techno held up a hand, putting a finger to his lips and pointing wordlessly at an overhang in the distance. Dream squinted in that direction and made out the shape of a weathered, two-story cabin nestled in the side of the mountain, probably left over from a long-abandoned mining expedition. Bingo. 

“That’s where I’d put a hostage,” he voiced softly. The others nodded in agreement. 

Techno’s finger moved to the far left, and he quickly spotted the glint of someone’s helmet flashing in the remaining sunlight.

“Guard,” he whispered. “No telling how many more there are out here,”

“Then let’s take them out one at a time, and snipe the ones in the cabin,” Wilbur replied quickly, already going for one of his knives.

“Too risky,” Techno interjected. “If we mess up and they alert the others, Tommy and George will be in danger. I say we wait for night and sneak up to the cabin, gather more information about where and how they’re being kept.”

Dream was studying the landscape, mapping it out in his mind. The beginnings of a plan were budding. 

“I may have another way in,” he said slowly. “How are you guys with tight spaces?”

* * *

Tommy was practically beside himself with stress, jittery and easily startled whenever George made the smallest of noises. They must’ve been down there for _hours_ by now. He had taken to pacing back and forth across the basement, the open space feeling more cramped by the minute. He had long since memorized how many steps it took to cross the room in either direction, but he couldn’t stand holding still, so pacing it was. He kept repeating the same thought like a mantra in his head. 

_My family is coming. My family is coming. My family is coming._

He refused to let doubt enter his mind, because then he might start crying, and he was too much of a man for that. He was going to stay strong. He knew George had been crying, and wasn’t bothering to hide it, but Tommy couldn’t blame him too much for that. He had two broken legs and a dislocated arm after all. 

Once, when he was ten or eleven, he’d broken his arm falling out of a tree. The day had stuck firmly in his mind as one of the worst in his life, because Phil had needed to set the bone back in place before the potion could heal it and it was the most pain he’d ever been in. He still remembered clutching Techno’s arm so tight he’d cut off the circulation to his hand while his dad was patching him up, and how white Wilbur’s face had been as he finally thrust a quarter dose of healing potion into his hand. 

The magic hadn’t been a picnic either. Sure, it patched him up with minimal scarring, but he’d felt vaguely nauseous for hours afterwards and the sensation of his muscles and bones knitting themselves back together was not one he ever wanted to repeat. 

Regardless of the side effects, he still wished he had a healing pot on him. He could only imagine how much pain George was in. But even if he did, he had no idea how bad the breaks were or how to pop the shoulder joint back into its socket so it would heal correctly. He knew Techno had dislocated his arm before, during some raid on another base with Dream, and his friend had popped it back into place for him, but he had no idea how to go about it. 

His feet were starting to hurt, the toes of his boots pinching uncomfortably, so he shucked them off and chucked them against the wall, resuming his pacing in socks. The cold of the stone floor dug into him and he almost regretted the decision, but he couldn’t stand the heavy footwear any longer. He paused in the far corner of the room, leaning his forehead on the wall and repeating his mantra again. 

_My family is coming. My family is coming. My family is coming._

Something was vibrating under his feet. Just the slightest of tremors, but enough to make themselves known to his socked feet when he was holding still. He got down on one knee, avoiding putting his scrape in contact with the ground, and pressed his ear to the floor. There was definitely something (or someone, he thought hopefully) below them in the ground. 

With his ear against the stone, the vibrations separated themselves into rhythmic strikes, too regular to be caused by nature. It had to be a person, and they were tunneling. Breaking through rock, by the sound of it. 

“George,” he hissed. “There’s someone mining under us.”

“Really?” the other replied, some hope creeping back into his tone. 

“Yeah, they sound close.” He felt around for his shoes, yanking them back onto his feet. He wanted to be ready to move in the event of an imminent rescue. Speaking of which… 

“How are we getting you out of here?” he asked, walking back over to his friend and sitting down, pressing lightly against his good shoulder so he could feel his reactions. 

“I’ll just have to suck it up,” George responded, anxiety and pain clipping his tone. He tensed, and Tommy could sense him coming to a conclusion. “Do you know how to relocate a joint?”

“No way,” he sputtered. George shushed him, and he lowered his volume again. “I can’t fix your shoulder.”

“You’re going to have to, if I want to get out of here without screaming in pain,” George said, brooking no argument. “Dream taught me how, it’s simple. Grab the rope from earlier and the fabric from your blindfold and move to my other side, but do _not_ touch me yet.”

He hesitantly got up, gathered the requested materials, and switched sides. George delivered the instructions in a low whisper, going over them twice to make sure he knew what to do. Once he was certain Tommy had the procedure down, he slowly shifted positions so he was upright instead of leaning against the wall. 

Tommy sucked in a breath, gently taking hold of George’s elbow and wrist, holding his forearm out perpendicular to the body. He was silently thankful he couldn’t actually see the joint. He held the elbow still and started moving the hand out towards him with excruciating slowness, his insides curling up uncomfortably with every note of pain that escaped George’s mouth. 

The joint rolled back into place with a disturbing popping noise and a muffled yelp from George, whose other hand was clapped over his mouth. Tommy shuddered, still holding tight to the limb. 

“Quick, the sling,” George gasped, taking his arm back and moving it into position across his chest. Tommy grabbed the blindfold and carefully wrapped the fabric around George’s lower arm, then wrapped the rope around his arm and upper body to serve as a makeshift sling. He tied the cord in a knot behind George’s neck, backing off with a rush of relief. 

George was breathing hard, clearly still in pain but doing his best to keep it in. He flexed his fingers and tried moving his arm, incredibly relieved to find he could, even if it was far from back to feeling normal. It was less painful than it was before, though, so he was counting it as a definitive win. 

“Thanks,” he got out. 

“N’problem,” Tommy muttered, already back to listening for their rescuers. Assuming it was a rescue party. Maybe it was just some random miners that happened to be digging under them. He quickly shoved that unhelpful thought to the back of his mind in favor of holding onto hope. They were definitely closer now, sloping upwards in their direction. That suggested they were purposefully aiming for them. 

He laid down, ear pressed into the ground. The repetitive thumping was calming and made him feel like he wasn’t quite so lost. 

_My family is coming. My family is coming. My family is coming._

He didn’t know how long he waited, falling into a light doze as the noise evolved into the distinct sound of a pickaxe cracking through stone. They couldn’t be more than a foot below at this point, and he pleaded to Notch whoever was upstairs wouldn’t catch them. George could plainly hear it now too, and a soft smile spread across his face even with the pain in his legs. 

Suddenly, the noise ceased. Tommy shot up, staring downwards in confusion and expectation. It changed to a soft scraping. They must have encountered the stone brick floor. He softly knocked on the ground, and it stopped again. The miner tapped back, and Tommy grinned, rapping his knuckles against the floor. George added his two cents, letting the person know they were both here. 

It was silent for a minute, then a pattern came through, three fast knocks, two long, and four fast. Tommy beamed and sent the response, two fast and three long. It was a code he and Wilbur had used when they were younger, when they built a treehouse and wanted to keep Techno out of it. It meant _I’m a friend. It’s safe to let me in._

It meant his family was here. 

The scraping resumed, the person doing it clearly trying to keep noise to a minimum. Tommy nearly bit a hole through his lip in anticipation. He backed away from the area, not wanting to fall through the soon-to-be hole. 

He saw the light before anything else, gleaming through the fresh crack like a beacon. George inhaled sharply and Tommy felt like cheering, then the tip of the pickaxe was through. It chipped patiently at the gap, gradually widening it, and soon it was wide enough for someone to reach through to pull away the entire brick and start on the next one. After the second one was removed, Tommy couldn’t hold back any longer, crawling cautiously to the edge of the hole. The golden light from the lantern they held hurt his eyes after being in the dark for so long, and he shielded his face, peering down at the trio. 

“Hey,” he called, barely above a whisper. 

“Hullo.” That was Techno. 

“Tommy.” Wilbur, a moment later. 

“Hey, is George there?” And Dream. His family. 

“Yeah,” he murmured. “He can’t come but he’s here.”

“He’s hurt?” Dream responded, alarmed. 

“His legs are really jacked up. Do you want me to carry him over?” There was a noise of protest from George in the corner. 

“Wait until the hole is big enough to lower him through before trying to move him,” Techno interjected. “Back up so I can start mining again.” 

Dream reluctantly retreated, muttering angrily under his breath, and Techno resumed the process of prying out the bricks. After removing four more, he deemed the hole big enough and stepped aside, helping his friend climb up through the opening with another lantern. Tommy, mostly adjusted for the brightness, didn’t blink, but George winced and squinted as the light hit him. 

“George,” Dream breathed, rushing over. Tommy followed, seeing the extent of his friend’s injuries for the first time. 

Aside from his arm, he was bruised in several places and had a long scratch down the right side of his face, but the biggest shock was his legs. Both shins were swollen and mottled purple and yellow, stretching the fabric of his pants to an uncomfortable-looking degree. His face was white and pinched with pain, and a sheen of sweat shone on his forehead. He gave a pathetic wave and tried to smile, but it wasn’t really working.

Dream, somehow looking furious and terrified at the same time, set the lantern down on the ground and ran back to the hole. 

“I need a non-poisoned knife and your cape, Techno. Do you have any sticks or string? I’m going to make a splint.”

Wilbur gave him a small blade and a spool of thread, and Techno passed over the garment, but no one had any unused wood. 

“Arrows, then.”

Techno handed some over, and Dream snapped off the flint tips and feathered ends, walking back over to his boyfriend and kneeling down next to him. He carefully inserted the knife between skin and fabric and slit his pant legs up to the knee, exposing the rest of the injured area. He ripped the cape down the middle and set about padding his right leg with the thick cloth, supporting it with sticks and tying everything in place with the string. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered as George groaned in pain. The injured man chuckled faintly.

“What for? You’re here rescuing me.”

“As soon as we’re out of the life-threatening situation, I’ll kiss your leg better,” Dream joked quietly, trying to cheer him up. He was rewarded with a slight grin. 

“Promise not to die taking your revenge, yeah?”

“Don’t worry, they were so scared of me they had to go after my poor, defenseless boyfriend instead,” he teased, tying the last of the knots on the right leg and moving to the left. 

“Excuse me, ‘poor defenseless boyfriend’ knocked out two of them before going down,” George told him, mock offended. 

Tommy retreated back to the hole while Dream worked, filling his brothers in on what they knew about the kidnappers. They still hadn’t heard anything from upstairs, and it was starting to worry Techno. They had kept their voices as low as possible, but he would have thought they’d at least hear footsteps or the sound of guards talking. If his time spent fighting had taught him anything, it was that the vast majority of hired guards were incapable of keeping quiet for long periods of time. 

He hoisted himself through the hole and wrapped Tommy in a hug, running his eyes over everything in the room. His gaze settled on the trapdoor set in the ceiling and his brow furrowed. Tommy let go and noticed his distraction, following his stare upwards. 

“That thing is redstone wired,” his brother declared, walking over to stand under it. Sure enough, Tommy saw the faint shine of a thin redstone wire connecting to the hinges. 

“Might be hooked to an alarm,” Dream theorized, looking up at it as he finished the second splint. 

“Or something else,” Techno said ominously. 

Wilbur climbed up to join them, hauling a bulging and heavy-looking inventory bag after him. He pulled out a set of lightweight chainmail armor and an iron helmet and handed them to Tommy, then joined Techno. 

“We need to disable the mechanism if we want to get up there. Give me a boost so I can disconnect it,” he told his older brother. 

“It won’t set anything off?” Techno asked. 

“I’ve built a million of these, redstone alarms are super simple, even if they’re connected to something more complicated. If you disconnect the thing they’re taking input from, nothing will trigger. Unless it’s waiting for a break in power, of course, but that’s not the case for this one since it’s not lit up.”

Techno nodded, accepting the explanation. He didn’t know a ton about redstone personally, but he trusted Wilbur’s knowledge.

Though he was the shorter of the two, Techno was far better at heavy lifting. He knelt down, letting Wilbur climb onto his shoulders before carefully standing back up. He balanced on the balls of his feet as his brother shifted, reaching up to yank the filament out of its socket. 

Techno braced himself, but nothing happened. No thunks, explosions, or ear shattering sirens. Wilbur tapped his head, and he let him down. 

“Told you,” his brother said smugly. Techno reached up and ruffled his hair, and Wilbur batted his hand away.

“What’d you say we go stab some nerds?” Techno proposed, eyes glittering. 

“And I suppose George will just carry himself home?” Dream reminded them, digging around in the inventory bag for a healing pot. 

“We can’t just let them get away with it,” Wilbur protested. 

“Oh, believe me, they won’t” Dream reassured him, venom lacing his voice. His hand, buried up to the shoulder inside the magically enlarged backpack, brushed against something cylindrical, and he pulled it out, curious. 

He was holding a stick of TNT. 

“Holy- Wilbur, what were you doing carrying this around?”

“Like I said, I’m not letting them get away with it,” he said nonchalantly, the glint in his eye matching his brother’s. 

So that was his plan. Dream raised an eyebrow. Apparently murderous tendencies ran in the family, or maybe Phil just had a soft spot for mildly sociopathic children. He should remember not to underestimate Tommy in the future. 

But despite his earlier thoughts about keeping out of Wilbur’s way, Dream wasn’t going to let him have _all_ the fun. 

“How about you get these two,” he indicated George and Tommy, “out of here, then come back and once Techno and I have let off some steam?”

Tommy let out an indignant sputter, but Wilbur could see the wisdom in the plan. 

“As long as I can still blow this place sky high when you’re done,” he said easily. 

“Great. Come back once they’re out of the mountain, we’ll have it cleared by then.”

He turned his attention back to the knapsack, finally catching hold of the glass neck of a potion bottle. He uncorked it and gave it to George, warning him to only take a sip or two. They didn’t want his broken bones to heal before Phil could take a look at them, but getting rid of the scrape on his face and the worst of the bruising would help alleviate some of the pain. 

Wilbur clapped Techno on the shoulder and winked, then moved across the room and knelt down by George and Dream. 

“What’s the best way to do this?” he asked, looking between the two. 

George’s nose scrunched as he thought. “I’m assuming you don’t have crutches or a gurney?”

“Sorry, nope.”

“Are you strong enough to manage a fireman’s carry?”

Wilbur considered this. “You know, I hadn’t thought about that. How long is the walk out of here, d’you think?”

“Maybe a half hour,” Dream supplied. 

Wilbur pursed his lips. “I don’t think I can carry him for that long.”

“You’re forgetting I exist again,” Tommy interjected. “I got muscles to spare.”

Wilbur sighed in relief. “Perfect,” he said gratefully. As much flack as he gave his little brother, he still acknowledged that Tommy had more endurance than he did. Wilbur had never been the go-to for physical strength in their family. “Did you take coordinates? I’ll message Phil to start up here with a stretcher.”

Dream told him the location, and Wilbur started typing rapidly into his communicator. 

George, a little color back in his cheeks, handed the resealed healing pot back to Dream so he could put it away. The cut on his face was gradually shrinking, leaving only bloody smears behind. There was a faint hum in his bones undercutting the constant pain, but there wasn’t enough magic to accidentally repair the fractures before Phil could set them. “Alright. Wilbur, Tommy, go back into the tunnel so Dream can lower me down.”

The pair obediently dropped back through the gap with a nod goodbye to Techno, and Dream scooped his boyfriend into a gingerly executed bridal carry, trying to move his legs as little as possible. Unfortunately, shifting was inevitable. George bit back a yelp as a wave of agony rolled up from his splinted shins, and Dream winced in vicarious pain. He’d broken bones in the past too.

“Sorry, Georgie,” he whispered as his boyfriend buried his face in Dream’s shoulder and wrapped his good arm around his neck for more support. “You guys ready?” he called softly down the hole, where Wilbur was showing his brother how to make a two-person seat between them with their arms. 

“Pass him down, Prince Charming,” Wilbur replied, correcting Tommy’s grip one last time. 

Dream carefully knelt back down and leaned over the edge, holding onto George’s upper half while slowly letting his legs down into the hole. The brothers gently sat him down in their arms, one pair supporting under his shoulders and one under his knees. Dream nervously examined their makeshift human chair, deemed it sturdy enough, and handed George one of the lanterns to put in his lap before sending them on their way. 

He and Techno watched the light fade down the tunnel, Tommy’s muffled griping filtering back long after they left. They stood up and faced each other. Techno, no longer holding back in front of Tommy, looked so angry Dream would have been terrified if he was anyone except himself. His own face was still composed, but his insides may as well have been on fire with how much rage he was bottling up. 

They had _broken George’s legs,_ for Notch’s sake. He had first-hand experience on how much that hurt, and all he’d done was fracture his left tibia. These kidnappers were going to die, and they were going to die painfully. 

Techno pointed upwards at the trapdoor. “If you can get me up there, I can pull you after me.”

“And the guards up there will wait around long enough for you to haul me out? I was thinking we’d lure them down here.” 

Techno smirked, pulling his crossbow off his back and unhooking one of the rockets from his belt to load it. “There’s no one up there. No hired guard can keep perfectly silent for hours, especially in large numbers. They’re up on the second floor, waitin’ for us to come from the woods so they can fire at us out the windows.”

“An ambush.”

“Exactly. It was botherin’ me that they were so easy to tail. I find it hard to believe this group was so incredibly stupid that they ticked off two of the best fighters for a couple thousand blocks, left two witnesses behind, and didn’t expect to be followed. I figured I was right when I saw the trapdoor had a redstone alarm on it. But they didn’t think we’d come in from the bottom, so we’ve still got the jump on ‘em.”

Dream grinned. “So we ambush their ambush. We’ve gotta take out as many as we can with the first push, they were probably planning to overwhelm us with numbers.”

Techno patted his crossbow. “That’s why I’ve got this beauty. Keep behind me if I say I’m goin’ to fire, or I can’t guarantee you’ll walk away with all your limbs. She’s got a big range.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Dream told him, loosening his revolver in its holster and taking the cover off of his axe. “Wilbur said he packed some shields, right?”

“Small ones, yeah. Won’t be effective against gunfire for long.”

“Good thing we won’t need long,” he said, a wicked spark dancing in his eye and already readying himself to boost the other man up. 

“Glad we’re on the same page,” Techno returned approvingly. He placed his boot in Dream’s cupped hands and got ready to push open the trapdoor, the first stirrings of his bloodlust making his fingers twitch in anticipation.

* * *

Even with both Tommy and Wilbur carrying him, the trek out of the mountain was an arduous affair, compounded by the fact that Tommy would not stop complaining for longer than a few minutes at a time. His voice was echoed and amplified by the confined space, aggravating George’s already pounding head. He wished he could have taken more of the healing potion. The pair was doing their best not to jostle his legs and the splints were a godsend as far as padding was concerned, but that didn’t change the fact he was in constant pain. 

He sent a vehement thanks up to Notch when the soft glow of the torch placed to mark the end of the tunnel joined their lantern light. The air grew fresher and the faint scent of pine tickled his nose, a welcome change from the musty air of the underground passage. The night was clear, and a nearly-full moon shone down on the trio as they emerged from the mountain. They were in a dense coniferous forest, silent except for the ever-present noise of crickets. 

The pair set George down on a patch of grass inside the circle of torchlight, and he held in a yell as the pain spiked from the change in position. Wilbur immediately started apologizing, but he waved him off. They didn’t mean it. 

Wilbur pulled out his communicator to ask Phil for an update on his position, and Tommy started pacing again, roving back and forth across the illuminated patch of ground. 

“Phil said he’s a few hundred blocks out, he’ll probably get here in a half hour or so,” Wilbur informed them. “He’s bringing his medical supplies.”

All that was left to do was wait. Wilbur gave Tommy a few of his throwing knives just in case any mobs decided to mess with them, making sure to keep all the poisoned ones for himself. Thankfully, the most dangerous thing they might encounter is a zombie, since creepers had been hunted to near-extinction in the valley and skeletons tended to stick to forests where they could actually fit under the trees when the sun came up. 

After perhaps ten minutes, the group was startled into flight-or-fight mode when an ender pearl came sailing out of nowhere and landed smack in the middle of the torchlight. Phil burst into view with a shower of luminous purple particles, clutching his homemade stretcher in one hand and his head in the other. He had his bulky and cumbersome traveling pack strapped across his back and a slingshot sticking out of his pants pocket. 

Wilbur rushed over and relieved him of the ungainly wood and canvas contraption, worry flitting across his face as his dad shook his head violently, trying to rid himself of the slight disorientation that came with teleportation. 

“Did you pearl all the way here?” he asked, studying the way Phil’s pupils were fuzzed at the edges and his irises were flecked with green, both symptoms of rapid-fire teleportation. 

“Eh, I’m fine. Faster than digging the elytra out, and I couldn’t carry all these supplies on wings anyways,” his father said dismissively, already unhooking his backpack straps so he could get to the contents. “Remind me later to thank Techno for that practice aiming pearls with the slingshot.”

“How many times did you pearl?”

“Seven or eight. Figured the sooner I got here, the better.” He turned around, hands full of medical supplies, and caught sight of George for the first time. “Yikes, glad I did.” He hurried over, already fussing over the splints and dried blood on his face. 

Wilbur’s mouth dropped open. “ _Seven or eight?_ Dad, how are you still standing? We’re not supposed to do more than three in a row.”

“I’ve got a nip of regen and strength on board, nothing I haven’t done before. Don’t think too much about it.”

Tommy bounced over from where he’d been patrolling. “That’s so _cool!_ How come you’ve never told us that strat?”

“Because I’m going to regret it in a couple hours once it wears off.” He pressed a rag and water bottle into his youngest son’s hands. “Wet this for me, will you?”

Wilbur was shaking his head. “We would’ve been fine waiting for longer.”

“Now, don’t act like you’re not dying to get back to the action. I saw the missing TNT when I went for pearls. Why don’t you scamper on back before Dream and Techno polish off the last of them?” He smiled, something sharp in the way he clenched his jaw. Wilbur knew his dad well enough to realize that he was holding back his anger, and he felt his own flare up in return. The borderline crazy glint sparked in his eye again as he thought about lighting the explosives under that blasted cabin. 

“You got it,” he replied gleefully, grabbing the lantern and dashing back into the tunnel. Phil chuckled, taking the wetted cloth from Tommy, handing it to George so he could wipe the blood off his face, and starting to undo the sling from his bad arm. 

“Fractured?” he asked, being careful not to let it move as he undid the rope. 

“Dislocated,” George corrected. “I showed Tommy how to pop it back in. But my legs are almost certainly broken.” 

Phil gently probed at the joint, clucking approvingly, and the teen’s chest puffed in pride, his previous distaste for the job forgotten. 

“All right, the healing potion should fix it right up, you might be sore for a day or so. And it might come out more easily in the future, so don’t go ramming yourself into anything.”

“I’ll do my best,” George said dryly. Phil huffed in amusement, swiftly replacing the makeshift sling with a proper one. 

“Anything else I should know of before I check your legs?”

“I hit my head and got knocked out, pretty sure I don’t have a concussion. Had some scrapes and bruises the healing pot already took care of.”

“How much did you have?”

“Just a couple sips. I haven’t felt any bone repair.”

“Good. I’m just going to double check you’re not concussed, bear with me.”

Phil took a cushion out of the stuffed pack, propped his legs up, and started undoing the splints, asking him basic questions like his name and the date. He also handed Tommy his communicator and made him hold it up so George could prove he was reading fine.

He peeled back the last layers of fabric and exposed the injuries to the open air, his mouth thinning into a line as he examined George’s shins. The dark purples and sickly yellows had faded marginally since the potion had taken effect, but it was not a pleasant sight. 

“I’m going to have to touch them now, George,” he warned. “Tommy, get back to guard duty. I’ve got a shortsword in my pack if you want to swap weapons.”

He reluctantly placed his hand on the epicenter of the bruising, lightly pressing to feel for anything that might be out of place. George gritted his teeth but couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped. Phil didn’t spend any longer than he absolutely had to, quickly determining that the breaks were simple fractures. No rearranging required. 

“You’re in the clear to drink more of a healing pot,” he told the relieved man, rooting through his overstuffed bag and drawing out the bottle he wanted. He also took out the regen and strength blend for himself. Better safe than sorry, he didn’t want more than one of them in danger of collapsing in the middle of the woods. 

He uncorked the red-filled bottle and handed it over, taking a cautious sip of the peach-colored custom mixture in the other flask himself. He grimaced as the kick hit, a similar rush to adrenaline but sitting wrong in his bloodstream like it wasn’t supposed to be there. To be fair, it wasn’t. Combining potions seldom came without side effects, even with solutions he’d fine-tuned over the years like this one. Thankfully, the only major drawbacks once the high wore off would be a very long and very deep sleep and the inability to ender pearl for about a week. He’d be right as rain in time, same as George. 

“You’ll need about a third of the bottle,” he said. “Take it slow.”

George nodded, well-versed in the intricacies of taking healing pots at this point in his life. 

“How’s Sapnap? I assume he made it back to our base?” he inquired as the trickles of heat simmered in his belly and magic tingled in his bones. 

“He ended up at our place, resting. He cracked a rib, and I made him stay back to make sure it healed properly under the guise of helping guard Tubbo.” he chortled. “Dream was stressing out enough about one of you, the least I could do was keep the other out of the line of fire until he’s back at full capacity.”

George sighed thankfully, twitching uncomfortably as the potion did its work. They sat quietly together for a while as the magic scurried through his cells, then George broke the silence again. 

“Thanks for all you’re doing, Phil. You didn’t have to help the three of us.”

“Of course I did,” the other said, glancing at Tommy, now armed with the sword from his pack and brandishing it at imagined enemies. “I understand Dream’s feelings on the matter too well not to.” Something darker flashed across his face, and for a moment George saw the fierce warrior Phil usually hid, hardened by battles long fought and living on in his protectiveness for his family. 

Contrary to many residents of the valley’s belief, Phil was not the token medic of the group. He had a good chunk of Techno’s skill, Dream’s tenacity, and years of experience honing his abilities. George also knew he had only seen the surface of Phil’s love for his family. He would literally go to war for them, almost had on several occasions. Not many tried to break up Sleepy Bois Inc, and those who did tried exactly once. As today’s kidnappers were currently learning. 

Speaking of which… 

A shudder rocked the ground under their feet, and pride bloomed in Phil’s chest when he heard the distant rumble from TNT exploding on the other side of the mountain. Tommy whooped in triumph, punching the air. Phil stood up and went to wait at the mouth of the tunnel for his sons, one hand on his hip and a half-smile on his face. Wilbur stumbled out first and crashed into his dad with open arms, still high off adrenaline and looking like he’d run the entire time. He probably had, with the heavy inventory bag strapped to his back to boot. 

“It’s a crater,” he joyfully informed them. “Everything’s ash and rubble.” He broke free of the embrace and gave his younger brother a crushing high five, then tried to suffocate him in a hug. “The other two are behind me, they sent me ahead to look for a stream.”

Tommy jabbed him in the gut and wriggled out of his clutches, a smug grin cemented on his face. “Then what are we waiting for, big man? We’ve gotta find water!” 

The pair scampered off into the woods with the lantern, chattering excitedly. Phil watched them go with a fond expression, then went and got out the rest of his first aid supplies. As good as Dream and Techno were, he doubted they’d be completely uninjured. 

Sure enough, they limped out of the tunnel arm in arm, covered in blood and weapons hanging from loose grips. They were exhausted, but both beaming like they’d just won a tournament. Techno’s hands were stained with the brightly colored powder he used in his fireworks and his mask was missing one of the tusks, and Dream had a new chip in his own mask and had lost most of the hood on his jacket. They smelled strongly of smoke and the acrid tang of iron. 

He waved them over, already rummaging for another health pot. He had a good idea of why they wanted Wilbur to find a stream. Dream shot Phil a wave and plopped down next to George, mother-henning as much as he could without getting blood all over his boyfriend. Soon the two were whispering and giggling like teenagers. 

“Hullo, Phil,” Techno called, throat a little scratchy. Most likely from yelling. 

“All right, how much of this mess is your own,” Phil chided, taking his sword from his hand and tossing it onto the grass.

“I’m responsible for all of it, Phil,” Techno joked, and his dad tutted. “Okay, okay. I’ve got a shallow gash on my left thigh, someone nicked my right ear, and a bullet grazed my arm. Stings like the devil, but I’ll be good after a swig from a health pot.”

Phil made him point out the cut to make sure it didn’t need stitches and had him promise to clean his ear thoroughly, then gave him the bottle with the rest of George’s potion. He moved on to inspect Dream, who insisted he was fine. George had to threaten him with a ‘forced full body exam’ before he relented and showed Phil the cuts on his calf and forearm and took off his mask, revealing a broken nose sluggishly leaking blood. 

Phil scrutinized the injury, which was swelling a little but not crooked, deemed him good to go, and handed him the other healing potion with instructions to avoid wearing his mask for a couple days if he could. 

Wilbur and Tommy chose that moment to come dashing in with news of a close-by river, both soaking wet. Neither would say why, but Phil could guess with the dirty looks they kept shooting each other. Dream and Techno set out with Tommy to go clean themselves off, and Wilbur helped his dad get the still-healing George onto the stretcher so they could get him back to the base. 

Dream and Techno, still the strongest in the group even while injured and eager to help, took an end of the gurney apiece when they returned, and Wilbur and Tommy each took a backpack. Before they left, Wilbur dug into one of his coat pockets, drew out the two stolen communicators, and returned them to their owners. Tommy shuddered, disturbed by the ransom message sent from it. He flexed his fingers with a shiver. 

“If it changes your feelins’ at all, Phil, it wasn’t just for the treasure,” Techno said stony-faced. “They tried to set a trap for me and Dream and failed miserably.”

“I was _bait?_ ” Tommy exclaimed, affronted. 

“You’re offended? They thought fifteen thugs with guns was enough to take us out,” Dream cracked, getting a half-laugh out of George. “Found their leader cowering in the attic with a puny little baseball bat. Couldn’t do his own dirty work.”

Phil smiled at the image, imagining how terrifying the pair would’ve looked after plowing their way through over a dozen lackeys. 

“I shot him with my last firework,” Techno announced with relish. “It lit the roof on fire, but Wilbur was almost done settin’ up anyways.”

“It was great,” Wilbur gushed, still starstruck by the explosion and the satisfaction of revenge. “Phil, you’ve gotta let me take over any demo projects you have.”

“I’m sure the folks living in Hermitcraft would have something for you to blow up if you feel like traveling for a week to get there.”

The group disappeared into the trees, following Phil’s directions back to the SBI base and chatting as the pain of injuries gradually faded into the background, then disappeared altogether.

* * *

P.S. Bad and Skeppy won the tournament with the help of their exceptional boat building ability and skillful retreats from every other team that posed a threat, resulting in them finding the treasure first. Everyone was floored and Bad treated them to muffins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking through! 
> 
> I thrive off comments and keysmashes ;)


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